


I'll Pick You Up

by Auggusst



Series: The Soldier And The Scientist [37]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Cap's Shield, Civil War, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Support, Friendship, Gen, Irondad, Mention of drinking, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Platonic Relationships, Post Civil War, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, anti starker, civil war aftermath, do not tag as ship, peter visits the compound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22792903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auggusst/pseuds/Auggusst
Summary: It's been over a year since Civil War, and Tony is still having a hard time. He simply can't reach out, can't get over the sinking feeling in his stomach. It takes the kindness of a young Peter Parker to remind him that things are okay, that they can get better some day.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: The Soldier And The Scientist [37]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/468745
Comments: 8
Kudos: 102





	I'll Pick You Up

**Author's Note:**

> You all should've seen this coming. I posted three happy fics in a row, there had to be some pain coming. But! Peter's here! I finally sat down and wrote a fic with him. Been meaning to do so for a while. This idea has been floating around in my head for over a year, it just took a long time to figure out how to get it out.
> 
> PS: This was def influenced by 'California' by Lana Del Rey. That song be makin' me cry all the time

The compound felt empty.

Well, it mostly was, but that wasn’t what he meant. It felt _empty_ , like everything that had ever mattered in it was gone, like it was just a collection of white walls and a stranger’s furniture, like it was a hospital instead of a home. No, a hospital wasn’t right either; it was a prison. Tony supposed it was a very nice prison, and at least he got to choose it, but it was a prison nonetheless. He could go somewhere else, physically, but mentally he’d still be there, in the big ol’ compound he’d built, thinking about all the mistakes, all the choices that led him here.

He missed Steve. He missed him so much it hurt to breathe sometimes. The absence of him was everywhere. It was over a year now, and it still wasn’t any easier. He flipped through the blond’s sketchbooks sometimes, stared at the unfinished painting on the small easel in his office, and stared until his eyes burned. He could memorize every stroke of it by now, sitting there atop the desk. He even dreamt about it sometimes. It was too early to tell what the painting was going to be, and not knowing haunted him.

He thought about finishing it sometimes. Tony’s artistic ability was infinitesimal compared to Steve’s, but he was okay enough. But finishing it wouldn’t be right. Steve’s art was a manifestation of his thoughts and emotions, and Tony couldn’t impose on those. He wished he knew what it was though. As silly as it was, some part of him felt if he could just decipher the painting, everything would make sense, that he would understand everything going on. He felt that it would bring Steve back to him.

Tony wanted to go to him. The thought crossed his mind often. It was too much of a risk to reach out though, with Secretary Ross breathing down his neck metaphorically. Tony was sure he was on a watch list. Most days he didn’t even leave the compound. He stayed here, worked on his suits, on safety measures, and tried to stay out of the spotlight. Either way, it was too much, too dangerous, and detrimental, to think that things could be the way they were, that even if he and Steve reconnected, they could live in peace. Some files became corrupted, and no amount of troubleshooting could revert the damage. Tony felt like a damaged file, and had so all his life. He felt like a million damaged files. Maybe his programming was corrupted from birth, and his influence, his connections with others only spread that corruption like a virus. Maybe it was better that he was here alone, that the compound was empty.

The silence was uncomfortable. The brunet was surprised in how much you could hear in white noise. But it was just that: empty white noise. He tried filling the silence with work, with the screech of metalworking or the typing of a keyboard, but none of that settled him. He wondered if it was possible to be settled anymore.

Regret was his only companion, really. Too often he found himself thinking ‘I shouldn’t have done it.’

He especially thought that whenever the little flip phone Steve had sent him buzzed, and another text came in. They were inconsequential texts, really, just little messages about Steve’s day. Sometimes they were just a word or two, a vague reference to whatever country he and the others were in, or how he was feeling. Sometimes they were long, and pleading, begging Tony to send one in return. These scared Tony most of all. Sometimes Steve just vented, and laid out all of his frustration, his rage, at the world around them and about Tony himself.

Tony read each text, and never said a thing in reply. He wanted to, most of the time. But sometimes, the thought of trying to start a conversation was worse than pulling teeth. Sometimes he wondered why he even should, why they should attempt to fix everything that happened. Normal couples didn’t go through things like them, didn’t almost kill each other and try to make up after.

Was it even possible? They were so fucked up. He wondered if they were better off never even being together at all.

But no matter how much went wrong, Tony couldn’t let go. He didn’t want to. He missed it all: the good, the bad, and everything in between. He even missed the things about Steve that drove him crazy.

Sometimes he just wished he could go. He wished he could drop everything and leave New York, take a suit and a small bag or two and go wherever Steve was, that he could just sweep him up and beg him to come home.

“Please,” he’d say. “I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t _think_ without you. Come home. Come _back_. I’ll do whatever you want, say whatever you want me to say. Maybe we don’t deserve to be happy, but I don’t care. I’d rather take the pain than suffer the absence of you any longer.” It sounded so dramatic, and it was, but it was also true.

Maybe they didn’t even have to come home. Maybe they could just disappear together, instead of Steve being gone and Tony being left here, in the big empty compound, with a thousand eyes on him and the weight of judgment on his shoulders. Steve left that weight for him, and he hated it. He was sure he could forgive it all though, someday. He could get over it, if he tried hard enough, if the reward was having Steve in his arms again. He could forgive all of them, even if they left him, hurt him without a second thought, didn’t care about what they had built enough to stick around.

But no, that wasn’t fair to say either. They simply did what they thought was right, just as he did.

That didn’t make the loneliness any easier though. But even if he couldn’t forgive, he could pretend, and that would be enough. They could all be together again, sit around a table and laugh maybe. It could be late, them all huddled together in the living room once more, a stupid movie on the TV and a bottle of whiskey from the top shelf keeping him warm.

He’d had whiskey too much lately, truth be told. It tasted less like a drink and more like fuel at this point. He didn’t enjoy the taste of anything anymore. He only ate out of necessity.

He wondered why it was so difficult this time around. The way he was living wasn’t much different than before 2008, with the exception of the lack of parties. He felt hollow, a true emptiness of soul, and wasn’t sure he could dig himself out of it. On occasion, he could ignore the emptiness. He still had a purpose, after all: Defending the world. Maybe it wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Maybe it was never easy and he just noticed it now. At least there was one good thing about all of this, and the ‘Civil War,’ as the media liked to call it. A certain arachnid-based superhero had recently wormed his way into Tony’s broken heart. The kid’s optimism and enthusiasm, his fresh outlook on life and his overwhelming sense of _goodness_? It was too much.

It didn’t take long after meeting Peter Parker for Tony to realize the next generation of heroes would do better than he ever could. He wanted to do everything possible to help the kid out. He wanted to give him the tools, the support, the reassurances that he never had. Of course he didn’t want the kid to know how invested he really was. It would be sort of overwhelming, he thought, if Peter knew that he was just about the only thing right now that made life easier. For that reason, Tony kept his distance most often, let Happy play the middle man. Once in a while, he couldn’t help but reach out though: a text, a quick phone call, some praise.

Today he’d gone a step further; he invited Peter to the compound, to check out his lab. Peter had refused staying at the compound as an Avenger already, but that didn’t mean he had to be barred from the premises or anything. Besides, Tony desperately wanted to fill the silence.

He made himself presentable: new haircut, took care of his facial hair, and picked out a good looking suit, instead of the miserable old t-shirts and old jeans he’d been wearing lately. He cleaned up the garage, and the classic car he’d bought recently, as well as the lab in preparation for the visit.

It was a little nerve-wracking, at first, showing the kid around the compound. Tony had a healthy amount of self confidence(though maybe it was lacking lately) so he shouldn’t have felt the need to perform, but he did.

Peter seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the tour. He had plenty of questions, which Tony didn’t hesitate to answer, and his joy was almost palpable. He even snapped a picture or two when he thought Tony wasn’t looking. His enthusiasm was incredibly endearing. Everyday things that Tony didn’t spare a second glance seemed to enrapture the teenager, like the massive TV in the living room, or the view from the kitchen window. It was interesting to get another perspective. Maybe for Peter the compound wasn’t _empty_. Maybe it was a place of warmth, of excitement.

Tony pondered it when they walked down a hall. He had been avoiding this hall in particular, for one room. He could feel his footsteps slowing down as they approached Steve’s office. The door was closed, but there was an accent window on its side, which allowed a glimpse into the room. Even from here Tony could see the painting on his desk, and felt the way it taunted him. He could feel misery draping over his shoulders once more, cutting through the peace of mind his visitor had brought. Peter caught glimpse of something else through the window, something Tony had neglected to think about in a long time, and suddenly it was too late to ignore the room.

“No way! The shield! Is this Cap’s office?” Peter asked, rushing over to the door.

Tony fought a grimace. “Uh, yeah. Yeah it is.”

There was a pause, and he knew what Peter expected. The teenager was too polite to ask for it, but the scientist understood. Tony took a breath, clenched a fist to fight off his anxiety. “You wanna check it out?” he asked.

Peter grinned. “Yeah! I mean, if it’s alright. I don’t wanna like—“

Tony waved a hand. “It’s fine. Here,” he said, moving forward. He gripped the door handle and swung open the door.

Peter took a step inside, looked around. He zeroed in on the shield almost immediately, propped against the wall in the corner. “Yeah I remember this,” he said with a breath of laughter, squatting down to look at it. He admired it while Tony stood with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Suddenly Tony felt like a stranger in here. Maybe it was because there was another person here now. It wasn’t his personal bubble of misery anymore. He glanced at the painting again, asked it for the millionth time what it meant.

“Can I…?” Peter began.

Tony turned his attention to the teen. “Can you what? Pick it up?” he guessed.

“Yeah, I just wanna—“

“Go for it. You’ve held it before,” the brunet shrugged. He was surprised how easy it was to give permission. He himself hadn’t touched the thing since he brought it back from Siberia. It was cursed, in a way. Whenever he looked at it, he was just pulled back into the moment, into the horrible things he’d said. He didn’t like it.

Peter didn’t have any qualms about it though, and picked up the red, white and blue shield. His smile was massive as he inspected it. It brought a hint of a smile to Tony’s own face, until Peter ran his fingertips over the deep scratches in the metal, presumably from T’challa’s Vibranium claws. It happened at the airport, if Tony remembered correctly. Things only went downhill from there, and he preferred not to remember it.

His demeanor must have physically changed, because when Peter looked up at him, the warm spark in the teenager’s eyes turned from pride to confusion, and maybe a little sympathy.

“Are you alright Mr. Stark?”

Tony fought a lump in his throat. Was he alright? Was he _alright?_ He couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked that. Rhodey, Happy and Pepper never had to. They mostly could just tell how he was feeling, which was fine by Tony, but being physically _asked_ did something to him just now that he didn’t quite like. It made him more emotional than he wanted to be.

What could he even say? It wouldn’t be fair to dump his problems on Peter. He was just visiting. He wasn’t a therapist, wasn’t caught up in the difficulties of Tony’s personal life. He was just a teenager, with his own problems, and didn’t need someone more than twice his age crying to him. Tony didn’t have much of a choice but to feign his emotions. “I’m fine,” he said with a shrug. “Just haven’t been in here in a while, is all.” He tried to smile.

Peter didn’t exactly buy it, but he didn’t prod, at least, not at first. He set the shield down, looked around the office. He could see that most of the objects had lain undisturbed for a long time, but there seemed to be a different kind of energy around the desk, like someone had moved things there. He was right, because Tony had. He didn’t move things intentionally, but sometimes when he sat at the desk, staring at the painting, he couldn’t help but shift a pen here or there.

Peter looked from the desk to Tony once more. He could guess that Tony came in here a lot, despite what he said. Mr. Stark didn’t seem like the type to be honest about his emotions, and who was really? So Peter would have to breach the topic himself.

“It must be hard,” he started. “Being in this big compound all alone.”

Tony squinted at him. “I know what you’re doing,” he said, sporting a genuine smile for the first time since the tour started. It was small, but amused. “Don’t think I don’t.”

Peter held up his hands defensively. “I’m not doing anything,” he protested, though he let out a short laugh. “It’s just…I know what it feels like. Well, not _exactly_ what it feels like, but…I just… I mean, do you have anyone to talk about it all with? I was only there for a little bit of it, but I heard plenty on the news—and I’m sure a lot of it was lies and whatever—but…You just…don’t look happy.”

Tony didn’t know how to respond. It was embarrassing, really, how easily young Spiderman had read him. Maybe he was just really easy to read. (Another reason Tony liked masks). He bit his lip, crossed his arms and let out a sigh. “I can’t remember the last time I was happy, kid. Things are just…life is hard, and that’s that I guess. It seems to be part of the hero business, as I’m sure you’ve discovered.”

That much was true. The incident with The Vulture had been a rude awakening for Peter. It made him understand the responsibility he had, the burden he now shouldered alongside the Avengers.

“Not to deter you. You’ve been doing an amazing job, probably better than I ever could, but…It’s hard. I… I miss him,” Tony huffed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbed his eyes before they started to sting.

Peter felt bad for him. He’d never been in a serious relationship, especially not one as long and as involved as Iron Man and Captain America, so he couldn’t imagine what it was doing to him. He wondered how Cap felt, wherever he was. Maybe both of them were miserable. Seeing Mr. Stark so down, so vulnerable, made Peter emotional too. He swallowed hard. Tony had been his hero since childhood. He still remembered the day at the Stark Expo when Tony saved him from a Hammer Tech drone. Knowing that the person he looked up to suffered just as much as everyone else felt like Peter was now holding on to a secret, a side of Tony that most people never saw.

He fiddled with his hands, torn between walking over and reaching out to comfort the older man or staying where he was.

“I’m really, really sorry,” Peter offered.

Tony shrugged, tried to put on another smile. “It’s fine. My problems aren’t nearly as big as other people’s. I think the silver spoon I was born with just made me soft.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” the teen replied. He stepped a little closer. “I think you just care a lot.”

“Well…thanks.” He couldn’t think of what else to say. Having the teen’s vote of confidence like that was something he sorely needed, even if he didn’t admit it. These days it felt like the world was against him, so it was nice that someone still thought he was good, still thought he was worthy of the title ‘Hero.’

“No problem.” Peter smiled. “And you know, o-only if you want to, you can come and see me and Aunt May, like, whenever. She’s really good about this kind of stuff, and I don’t know, it might make you feel better I guess? I hope so. Sorry, is it weird to offer that? I’m still not really sure where we’re at relationship-wise. I don’t wanna impose or freak you out or do something—“

“It’s completely fine, and appropriate. I’m not your boss or anything. We’re…Honestly I don’t have a word for it either, but I appreciate the invitation. I really do. Maybe I’ll take you up on it soon,” Tony said. He hesitated for a moment, and then patted Peter on the shoulder. “You’re a great kid. I mean that.”

Spidey’s eyes lit up at that. “Thanks. It means a lot.”

Tony nodded. He was hesitant at first, coming into this room today, but maybe it was for the best. He felt a little better now, for the moment. Somehow Peter had lifted his spirits, even if it was just for a little bit, and that was a nice feeling. “How about we check out the lab like we talked about, huh?”

“I’d love that! It’s probably a million times better than the one at school.”

“You got that right, kid. Now get on out of here. We’re disturbing the dust bunnies too much.”

It wasn’t his best joke, but Peter seemed to appreciate it. He beamed at Tony, and slipped out of Steve’s office and into the hall.

Tony lingered for a moment, took a second look around the room. Maybe coming in here wouldn’t hurt so much from now on. Maybe it was about baby steps. Maybe he could pick himself back up, so to speak. It helped knowing that people cared. Of course Pepper and Rhodey cared, and always would, but they were obligated to care at this point. Knowing there was another person who was concerned, who wanted to help, made a big difference in Tony’s book. It made himself, and the compound, feel less empty. It still wasn’t perfect, and he knew the slight feeling of joy he was experiencing now was fleeting, but it was better than nothing. Maybe he’d never feel completely right again, but maybe he could break even.

Maybe he could even work up the courage one day to answer a text, to pick up the phone and call. The thought still made him scared, made his body tense up and made him feel nauseous, but he wished it didn’t. He wished he could bring Steve back: back to America, back to him. He wished he could work up the courage to say ‘I’ll pick you up, just be there.’

Maybe Peter was the key to it. Maybe being around the teenager, maybe talking to his Aunt like he offered, would give Tony the courage he needed.

For better or worse, he counted the days until he had enough courage, and he could see Steve again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave your thoughts! I def wanna talk about this concept.  
> Also CW fics are always so long lmao. I get so into the stream of consciousness. The hard part is piecing together coherent thoughts xD


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